Heaven Can Wait
by PhoenixPulse
Summary: When Harry unknowingly summons one of the most powerful entities of the universe, he is given a choice.


Heaven Can Wait

When Harry unknowingly summons one of the most powerful entities of the universe, he is given a choice.

[HP + SPN] [Slightly AU to Deathly Hallows, King's Cross Scene]

* * *

As the words slipped from Voldemort's mouth, Harry closed his eyes, taking in his final breath as he braced himself for impact. Through the thin skin of his eyelids, he could see the flash of bright green light, casted out from the Elder Wand, ready to claim its next victim in line.

_I open at the close…._ strangely echoed throughout Harry's mind as he felt the force of the Killing Curse hit him squarely on the chest. He expected there to be pain, so much pain, and perhaps soreness, but he felt none of it. It was warm and calming—an odd wave of peace devouring a body that would be so cold and stiff. And just like that, Harry's legs gave way from under him, his body falling with strange grace, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. And the resurrection stone—the small blood-red rock that was once clutched so tightly in his fist, slipped from his lifeless fingers and onto the soft foliage below.

Harry's knees were the first to hit the ground, before his body fully sank into the dirt, unmoving. The forest clearing held nothing but silence, the ring of watching Death Eaters that lurked nearby in the trees were quiet, as if they awaited for a surprising plot twist to their reality. However, the Boy-Who-Lived kept still, chest not even raising for a shallow breath, and Voldemort's lips slowly curled into a triumphant smile.

"Harry Potter is dead!" He announced, before walking over to the fresh corpse. Crouching down and using cold, grey hands, Voldemort held the deceased boy's jaw, slack at the touch. _"I REPEAT, HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!"_

The cries of triumphant whooping echoed throughout the forest, and Rubeus Hagrid, who had watched Harry transform from boy to man over years that passed too fast, let out an enraged howl of grief—but the noise never escaped the spell that held him silent. The half-giant eyed the dead figure on the ground with disbelief, clinging onto the small hope that Harry was just playing a dirty trick. He prayed to that man called 'God' that muggles like his father had prayed to, that Harry was okay—that he was just really good at holding his breath and would pop right back up and live again. However, Harry never rose, and Hagrid's last bit of faith went down in flames.

But even when the body fails and the heart stops beating, the brain is always the last to die, and before Harry was sprawled across the Forbidden Forest's floor a good twenty seconds ago, his final thoughts were of reassurance—just floating and filling in the voids of his mind.

_Mom…Dad…I'm coming home._

* * *

He could feel the warmth of the sun caressing his skin and the pressure of his body laying against something smoothe and cold. Harry Potter who was dead a few seconds ago, felt very much alive.

The impression of feeling—of having senses—triggered him to open his eyes, and Harry instantly regretted it when he was met with blinding rays of yellow.

"Urgh, bloody hell—" The words had escaped his lips before he could help it, and was returned with a slight chuckle behind him. Rather alarmed, Harry twisted himself to see a stranger simply sitting in a chair, slicing away at a pizza before him.

The man had a napkin tucked in his lap and a tall, black cane was poised beside him. He had pale skin of white and neatly combed dark hair—high cheekbones rested on a thin face while a banded ring with a white stone was positioned around one of his long, spindly fingers. His attire reminded Harry of Snape—all black and prompting detachment. The man failed to regard Harry, his focus set completely on his meal.

"It's rather rude to stare, you know." The man said with a slight flicker of annoyance without looking up. Harry blinked.

"Er, pardon, but who are you?" Harry didn't mean to not apologize, but there was a burning curiosity within him. Who was this man, who sat so nonchalantly, dining on a pizza, like this wasn't the oddest situation? The man sighed before finally looking up at Harry; his expression was of boredom. The colors of the strangers eyes were dark and held a sort of knowledge—wisdom that perhaps exceeded Dumbledore's, though lacked the friendly warmth.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me." The man slowly said, slightly raising an eyebrow and holding Harry's gaze steadily. The seventeen-year-old felt like he was being tested.

"Is that so?" Harry countered back smoothly. "Try me. I've seen a lot of unbelievable things." _Like flying dragons and mere-people…magic—perhaps more than you have. _ The corners of the stranger's mouth twitched, though the smile was fought off and the man's face remained impassive.

"I'm sure you have seen a lot of remarkable things Mr. Potter," the man said quietly, allowing his dark eyes to bore into Harry's green ones, causing the young man's brows to crinkle together, his forehead creasing.

"How did you—?"

"Know your name?" The man completed, his thin lips forming a lopsided smile—but the smile was more sardonic than that of actual…happiness. He spoke in an undertone that stirred an uncomfortable sensation within Harry's stomach. "There is nothing in this universe that escapes my awareness. I have seen all, I can assure you."

"Who are you?" Harry demanded once again.

"Well aren't you a polite thing?" The man sarcastically remarked, before looking away shortly, taking in a patient dose of air before looking back at the boy whose stare never lifted. "I am Death."

Harry would've laughed if he weren't looking into a completely earnest face, whose eyes held a challenging blaze, as if daring him to question anyways. Moreover, the man held a superior aura, dark eyes boring holes, making Harry feel intimidated at once.

"Death?" Harry echoed with slight suspicion dripping from his tone. "Like a reaper?" The man who called himself 'Death' snorted as he casually leaned back in his chair, eyes never breaking eye contact.

"No, Harry. I am not a reaper. It is not my responsibility to take the dead to the afterlife. However, reapers do exist. They serve under my orders. Many people die in a brief second. All around the world, a heart stops and I can't tend them all by myself."

"So if you don't take people into the afterlife, what do you do? Just kill people?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing while Death took a brief second to consider his answer.

"In a sense, perhaps you could summarize my job in that way—it's all in the human perspective. I hear it all the time, the cries of you humans, 'Why me?' or 'Why her—why him?' However, simply killing for killing is not my job. I have a respect for natural order Harry. The lives of these people who come and go are pre-written for them—death is balance, and it is my job to make sure the scales don't tip that balance."

"So it's like fate—destiny?" Harry pressed, trying to make sense of it all.

"Fate is another entity—separate from my own, but I suppose our jobs do overlap. If someone's death becomes averted, it can only be balanced by taking someone else away, regardless if they were destined to live a full life or not." Death studied Harry for a second. "And dying, as you have learned from the Peverells can never be circumvented."

"Peverells…" Harry muttered, eyebrows joining in thought. "Do you mean the Three Brothers?" His attention shot back up to Death who regarded him with a small smile. "You're the Death that gave them the Deathly Hallows?"

"I am the very same." Death resolved. "And let me inform you that I am the only Death. However, Hallows and Peverells aren't what I have come to discuss with you, Harry. Since you have summoned me, I suppose we shall tie some loose ends, yes?"

"But I didn't summon—"

"The Hallows, Harry," Death interrupted, his tone impatient as he rolled his eyes. "You have reunited them, and they belong to me. Once the carrier has died, does it not make sense that I will come for what has originally been mine? Leaving them in your races' possession after the Peverells had passed obviously has been a mistake—the slaughter for the Elder wand was entertaining at first, but I suppose it's' time to put the playthings away, don't you agree?" When Death smirked at Harry's silence, he continued, "Now, let us discuss your terms, Mr. Potter."

Finding his voice, Harry warily eyed Death. "Like what?" He croaked.

"Your call, Mr. Potter," Death supplied. "If you would like to join me, perhaps we can talk about where your fate stands."

"I'm sorry, but my fate? I am dead. I'm not quite following—"

"You're currently, in what you humans tend to call, the limbo, hovering somewhere between the gates of the afterlife and the living." Death irascibly waved a dismissive hand, cutting through Harry mid-speech.

"But I don't understand." Harry muttered, and began to look around, deep in thought. "He killed me! I heard him say the curse! I felt it run right through my chest! I'm supposed to be dead!"

"Funny, you're one of the few that seem content with dying." When Harry scowled, Death closed his eyes, deeply inhaling in exasperation. "It didn't kill you, Harry—It killed that abomination inside you—the Horcrux. While your heart may have indeed stopped beating, you're not exactly legitimately brain dead."

"The Horcrux is gone?" Harry's voice had filled with hope.

"Yes, Harry—the latching soul is gone." Death confirmed as he reached for his cup of soda and sipped through the straw. Without helping himself, Harry grinned.

"Don't get too excited, Mr. Potter. You still have a decision to make." Death spoke, settling the cup back down on the table. He eyed the young man seriously, whose smile began to fade. "Now come and sit, so we can go about this professionally." The entity nestled in a man's body said, presenting Harry the chair across from him. Standing up, Harry cautiously made his way to the table and took a seat; his eyes fell upon the large pizza sitting before them.

"If you're curious, it's from Chicago, you know—from the States? You should try it, I insist. There's no better pizza around, and I assure you, I've been everywhere." Harry let his eyes travel back to Death's who stared back, and though Death lacked a smile, Harry was sure the man was encouraging him to have a slice…though Harry wasn't entirely sure if 'man' was a correct label to refer to Death.

'_Constant vigilance', _roared from somewhere in the back Harry's mind, causing him to shake his head.

"No thank you, it's fine." Harry muttered. Death raised an eyebrow but did not press the subject. "So what of my…_fate_ did you want to discuss?"

"You have a choice Harry," Death began, knitting his hands together in a business-like fashion, posture upright. "Normally when a person dies, I do not hesitate in bringing them in. I do not like the idea of resurrection, but I suppose in rare circumstances I can make an exception." Death held Harry's gaze with an intensity that made the young man shiver. "Like I have already mentioned, you reuniting the Hallows, Mr. Potter has summoned me here. Although the claim that you will become the Master of Death is false, I am willing to give you options." Death paused, ensuring the fact that Harry was still following.

"What are my options?" Harry asked quietly.

"I can ensure your revival, Harry." Death answered. "I am willing to bring you back to your world to finish what has been started. If you succeed, I will reap Tom Riddle myself. If you fail, I suppose I will see you again."

"And my other option?" Harry questioned, slowly letting the news sink in.

"Then I will escort you to the afterlife Mr. Potter—to Heaven."

"Heaven…" Harry whispered faintly, eyes growing round. "Heaven is real—it exists?"

"It's as real as the world you once fought for."

There was a silence as Harry absorbed his presented choices. He could go back and defeat Voldemort—actually finish him for the last time, but then there was his parents, and Sirius, and Remus waiting in Heaven—people who he lost and never said a proper good-bye to.

In Heaven, he'd finally have peace. No more buzzing tabloids about the "Boy-Who-Lived," or worrying about ex-Death Eaters to watch his neck over and possibly catch if he ever became an Auror. But then he figured Heaven must be lonely without all the other people he loved and cared about: the Weasleys and Hermione. Heaven just didn't seem right without the family he'd be leaving behind…

"If Heaven's real," Harry began, eyes returning to stare into Death's black irises. "Is Hell real too?"

"Hell is just as real as Heaven and Earth."

"So Voldemort—if I finish him—he'll go to Hell?"

"Oh, I don't think Hell is where Tom will be going, Harry." Death muttered, looking away and allowing his eyes to search the walls of the train station/limbo.

"Pardon?" Harry croaked. "What do you mean Voldemort won't be going to Hell? He isn't a saint, he doesn't belong in Heaven,—so he'll be staying here? I'm sorry…Death, but I don't like the idea of Voldemort hovering between living and possible damnation—"

"Mr. Potter, would you agree that Tom Riddle is no longer human?" Death interrupted, attention snapping back to Harry. The young man was sure he would've snapped his own neck if he tried to switch focus that fast.

"Yes, I could agree with that—"

"Harry, are you familiar with Purgatory?"

"What is—what does that have to do with anything?"

"Purgatory is where non-human beings go. While the good souls go to Heaven after they die, and the damned go to Hell, the _unhuman_ go to Purgatory. Tom Riddle, who has split his soul into seven pieces, preformed Dark Magic to create a whole new body, and involved himself in a parasitic relationship with a past host to feed on unicorn blood—Harry, Tom Riddle is nowhere near human."

"Okay, so Voldemort goes into this Purgatory—he'll be gone for good right?"

"Oh yes. Purgatory's doors are quite difficult to open. Whatever goes in cannot come out, quite unlike Hell, whose demons walk the very earth. But what is your decision, Mr. Potter?"

"If I kill him, do I get to stay?" Harry softly asked. Death raised an eyebrow.

"On earth you mean? Yes, Harry, I assure you, it will be Tom's life that I will reap, not yours. Of course, when your time eventually comes, that will be a different story."

"Then let me go back," Harry said, eyes lingering solely on Death's cup of soda, his tone absolute and definite. "I want to finish this right. It has to be me. It was on my prophecy and technically, if I still have a choice to go back, count me as alive. I can kill him. Neither can live while the other survives." He looked up to Death. "Take me back. Heaven can wait."

Death regarded him carefully before speaking. "Are you sure?" Death asked. "I will not reverse your decision. Mr. Potter, you have done a great service to the world—to your kind. Heaven still awaits you with open doors, even if you do decline to go back."

"I'm positive." Harry nodded, swallowing down the tiny urge to yell out the opposite, the tiny urge that wanted peace and to see his parents. He was so close to seeing them and everyone else he dearly missed for so long again, but he knew it wasn't his time—it didn't feel right to just…go on. Standing up and trembling slightly, he nodded his confirmation to Death. "I'm positive."

"Very well," Death said, before he too stood up and waved Harry to approach him. "If you would come here, Mr. Potter,"

Harry slowly walked to Death's side, nervous to how the entity was going to send him back.

"I will place two fingers on your temple, and you should awaken. This will be painless, Mr. Potter." Death informed, holding up both index and middle finger. Harry eyed the two thin limbs warily before nodding at Death in understanding.

"Just one more thing," Harry said, before Death could touch his skin. "Could you possibly tell me about my parents?" Death raised an eyebrow.

"In honesty, Mr. Potter, I do not know. I personally do not escort souls to their destination, only rarely do I reap, and much less do I visit them. But it is Heaven, and all of Heaven's souls are safe. Perhaps should you run in with an angel, they can tell you, but I cannot."

"Angels?"

"Snarky, irritating, celestial beings that I advise you not to come in counter with. Now Mr. Potter, good luck, and perhaps I may see you soon?" Death's finger rested a centimeter above Harry's temple, allowing Harry to shakily laugh.

"Hopefully not."

"We shall see," and when Harry felt Death's cold fingertips, his surroundings instantly blackened to nothing, followed by the feeling of soft soil and prickly grass pressed beneath his bare arm.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

First off, forgive me if my writing is a bit rough. It's been a while since I've actually wrote something out of leisure, so this was like a warm up for me. Time to re-charge the old batteries. I can't get rusty!

I decided to mess with the whole 'Master of Death Harry' idea and the story of the Hallows and blend them with Supernatural's character, Death. Death being the creator of each of the three Hallows in the Harry Potter universe, I felt like they would be like his scythe—sort of like a part of his entity [in reflection to the SPN universe]. The idea's probably been done before, but the idea's been nagging me and I really wanted to write it. I felt like the encounter would've only been possible when Harry died in the Forbidden Forest.

Moving on, if Voldemort were plunked right in the middle of SPN, I would have no doubt that his soul would go straight into Purgatory. While yes, he isn't exactly a monster (vampire, werewolf, etc…) his humanity is far long gone. While he maintains a human body, forged and artificial, but human, his soul isn't. It's been split and severed into seven pieces, all outside his physical being. I feel like the more he split his soul, the more he lost what made him a human being, hence his snake like complexion. Or maybe his messed up face was a drawback of the body-making potion. Who knows? I personally just don't find him human. Feel free to disagree and comment on the box below!

The one thing that bothers me about crossing the two fandoms however is the very concept/existence of Purgatory. When monsters die, it doesn't matter if they're good or bad—Purgatory is where they'll go, and I can't stomach the idea of OUR Lupin, who is supposed to happily enjoy heaven with his best friends and wife, waking up and finding himself alone...having to fight leviathans and so many other foul creatures. Hell, he'd have to face Voldemort AGAIN! (But then again, Riddle's ego is so inflated, I have a feeling he wouldn't last long).

I can't just dance around it though and make Remus an only exception to the rule, so let's just say in this universe Remus was lucky enough to cross paths with Benny, and they bro'd up. Sometime later, Cas and Dean get stuck in Purgatory, like canon, and Dean gets out, but he frees Lupin too, and maybe because Lupin's gentle yet wise, convinces Sam to let down his guard, so there isn't this bitter anger between the two brothers concerning Benny's friendship with Dean. And sometimes when Naomi calls for Castiel, Cas'll take a few moments to stop by the Potters' Heaven and check in with Lily, James, Sirius, Fred, and Tonks to relay information back in forth between them and Remus. More Supernatural canon (overseas, the next generation are growing up happy—Remus refrains from going after Teddy because the risks are high, so he sticks around with Benny. Benny takes care of him during full moon, making sure they're fully stocked with wolfsbane potion ingredients (Sam and Dean have worked with bizzare stuff from hexbags to summoning rituals—they're the sources). The trials happen, and Dean calls up Benny and Remus (we all know what follows—I don't want to go into detail there). Later when Garth finally joins them (and I'm imagining that Garth lives a long and happy life and maybe just dies of a heart attack at old age), by that time Lupin and Benny have carved out their own territory in Purgatory where it's peaceful and inhabited by other friendly and trustworthy monsters and everyone in Purgatory knows to stay away from them, because Benny is kick ass and Lupin is a freaking wizard and Garth is more than a cuddly ball of dorkiness, but is also a hunter who knows his shizz.

(That little rant went overboard, and I apologize. I just feel like I needed to expand on Remus' behalf, knowing that in this universe he's in Purgatory, no matter how much I want to deny it. It's overfluffed and totally unrealistic, but shhh, let me salvage some happiness out of something negative.)

Thank you so much for reading, and do not hesitate in dropping me a review!


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